Werewolf in Cascade
by Meanthis
Summary: The secret of Blair's heritage is revealed when a group of mysteries seriel-killers starts to leave their bloody trails in Cascade. Rated for description of crime-scenes. R&R please (let me know that somebody is actually reading this. Please!).
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer****: **The Sentinel doesn't belong to me. The correct English grammar and spelling neither. (Thanks to Shedoc for beta-ing).

**A/N:**Thanks to my writing partner Lime-chan for feeding me with ideas, criticism and spontaneous insanity now and then. Please Review and let me know what you think!

WARNING: Semi-explicit description of gruesome murders. Proceed at your own risk!

*******************************

Werewolf in Cascade 

Key:     yadda blah   = telepathic speech  
            //blah yadda//   = private thoughts  
  


Free. Running. The unique feeling of cool night air stroking through his fur hair while he was gaining speed. Next to him was Swift, her fluffy white coat tousled from the wind, running just like him just for the feeling of it.

We are acting like cubs he thought towards his companion with an internal smile and jumped gracefully over the trunk of a fallen tree. The thick under-wood of the Forest didn't stop the two of them in their dash through the trees. There was nothing else, just the feeling of freedom.

We aren't exactly old yet, are we? she retorted with an equally transmitted smile. In perfect sync they continued running towards their destination. The shining full moon gave more than enough light for them to find the way without tripping once and despite the fact that they were running with high speed through a thick forest, nearly no sound was heard. These two knew how to move in the woods without making unnecessary noises, predators, hunters, fast passing shadows in the nightly woods of northern Washington State.

I don't remember the last time I simply ran like this. I nearly forgot how wonderful it is

His warm, happy laughter echoed in her mind. It was good that he was happy like this.

Perhaps you should join the meetings more often. You made yourself pretty scarce.

He slowed down from his run falling into a comfortable walk. Deep in thought he followed the invisible trail until she started to fear that she had offended him. She knew why he didn't come to the last meetings after all. Suddenly he raised his head and his ice blue eyes met her green ones.

You're right.

Startled she didn't know what to say for a few moments.

I am?

Yep

A wicked gleam appeared in his eyes suddenly and a grin bared his teeth.

Catch me!

And with that he was off running again, fast like the wind.

//He _is_ acting like an overgrown cub!// she thought while starting the chase. He had always been fast, but she wasn't called Swift for nothing. At the edge of the clearing they had been heading for she had caught up with him again.

They weren't the first to reach the meeting place. Already a large group had gathered around the big cabin. One of the elders turned at the sound of the two younger approaching. A small smile crept on his lips.

"Swift, Dreamer, it is good to see that you found your way to the meeting, too"

The two young wolves stopped closely behind the forest edge and bowed their heads in a respectful gesture to the elder. Then, without warning, the change began. Slowly the fur disappeared, the features and bodies transformed. After a long minute two young humans were standing there instead of the wolves.

"It's good to see you again, uncle." the young man said with a genuine smile, slowly walking towards the older man, who was smiling just the same.

"It was about time, that you came back to the pack, Blair."

***************

"Hey, Chief, wake up!"

Blair mumbled something, even for his Sentinel unintelligible, and buried himself deeper in his bedcovers. He was tired and had absolutely no intention to leave his warm bed without a fight. First of all it was Sunday and then he hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night. What time was it anyway?

"Rise and shine, Sandburg! Gotten rather late on your date yesterday, huh?"

"Shut up, Jim!" Blair mumbled from under his pillow, then risked a short glance towards his alarm clock.

//7:30 am?!?//

Frustrated Blair curled into a ball under his covers and tried to go back to sleep. No way he would get up now! He should have known that Jim was much too persistent to give him this chance.

"Come on, Chief, get out of bed."

With this words Jim yanked Blair's covers away, an action that triggered a flow of curses (in several languages) from the anthropologist.

"Why, o great and mighty Sentinel should I get up now? On a Sunday? I don't think the sun is even up yet."

"You could open your eyes and look." Blair could practically hear the smirk in the voice of his friend and seriously considered telling Jim exactly _what_ he was thinking about him right now. But on the other hand, this wouldn't be such a good idea. Jim was bigger and stronger then him //most of the time// and knew at least one hundred ways to kill and then hide his body.

"Seriously, Sandburg, Simon called. A body was found and we have to come in."

Blair yawned and sat up. Blinking he looked at Jim and stretched in the hope to wake up. He had gotten to bed only a few hours ago and was appropriately tired.

"I need a shower and a coffee. In that order."

"You better hurry up. I promised Simon we would join him in twenty."

Blair send a glare at his roommate, but stayed silent. While under the shower he considered to taking some extra time, just to come back at Jim, but then decided against it. In the end, it would only make Simon mad at him, something you were better off trying to avoid. What had Jim said? Another body was found. If Simon "dared" to call Ellison in on his free day, then it had to be rather serious. Blair had a very bad feeling about this already. A murder victim before eight o'clock in the morning was _not_ something that improved his general mood.

Ten minutes and two cups of coffee later Blair was ready to leave the loft. Jim was already waiting impatiently for his partner, the keys for the truck in hand.

"Did Simon give you any details?" Blair asked after a few minutes of silent driving.

"Not really. All he said was, that this isn't a normal murder."

"Is there something like a normal murder, Jim?" Blair asked quietly. Jim didn't answer immediately, but seemed to think this comment over for a moment, than he said:

"I wish there wasn't, Chief, but you know what the books call a normal murder. Simon sounded pretty unnerved, so it has to be something rather gruesome."

"Good thing, I didn't eat any breakfast, then." Blair whispered softly. The rest of the trip to the crime scene was made in silence between the two.

***************

The scene wasn't hard to find, the many police-cars around the apartment building would have tripped everybody off. The place was swarming with cops, forensic personelle and reporters (which were trying to get a statement or a photo, but were denied either). An ambulance car was standing not far away, obviously too late for the victim.

The murder itself had happened in a small alley between two buildings and Blair noted with a sinking feeling, that the people who came out of the street were mostly looking rather greenish in their face. He realized also something else: he knew this building. Two friends of his were living here. Perhaps they had seen or heard something?

Next to him, Jim groaned and made a face.

"What is it?"

"The smell, Chief. I can smell the blood even here. And there's something else…"

"What Jim?" Blair's voice was down to a whisper only his Sentinel could hear, while his hand was rubbing causally up and down Jim's arm to prevent a possible zone-out.

"Try to filter the blood out, so you can analyze this other smell. Try to ignore the blood for now and tell me what is out of place."

"I don't know, it's very faint."

"But strong enough for you to notice over all the other smells around here. Come on Jim, try it."

Jim closed his eyes in concentration and Blair resumed the motion of his hand on Jim's arm. After an endless moment, when Blair already feared that his friend had zoned, Jim opened his eyes again.

"I'm not sure, Chief, but I think it's an animal. I know, that I smelled this before, I just can't remember where and when."

"Okay, file the smell away for later! Then you can try to remember."

Jim nodded and did just that. He was glad, that his friend hadn't caught his little lie. He really did not know why he knew this particular smell, but something about it made him automatically think of Blair. Why did he associate a smell at a murder-scene with his roommate? Better keep this little piece of information quite for now.

Simon, furiously chewing on an unlit cigar, was coming over, very obviously in a foul mood.

"Ellison, Sandburg! Get over here!"

"The master has called." Jim quipped and started toward the police captain, Blair trailing behind him. The younger man was nervous, but not about the prospect of seeing the remains of a murdered human. Something else around here had set him on the edge. It could have something to do with his two friends being close, but Blair didn't think so. This was much stronger and he had the feeling that he wasn't going to like it.

"Something new, Sir?"

"Nothing really. There isn't very much left of the body itself. It nearly looks like some kind of wild animal ripped him apart…"

While explaining Simon led Jim and Blair towards the scene. The same moment he set foot in the alley, Blair could feel it. His whole skin started tingling and the hairs on his neck stood up. Just barely he suppressed a low growl which threatened to escape him when instincts, he normally held under tight control, flared unexpectedly. Someone threatened his territory. Suddenly Blair had a very nasty suspicion what had happened here.

"Sandburg, you okay?" Jim asked suddenly and startled Blair out of his thoughts.

"Not really. I will never get used to something like this." The younger man replied hastily. It wasn't really a lie, but certainly not the whole truth.

//Shit, of course he had to notice something. My heart rate and respiration must have been all over the place. Just lucky I had a good explanation… this time//

Blair kept back a few steps. What he was seeing of the victim from this distance was certainly enough to turn his stomach. His suspicion was growing stronger even if he really had liked to be wrong in this situation. Simon was still recapitulating what they knew about the victim:

"As far as we know, Native American male. Had an identification on him, saying his name were Richard Northstar, we…"

Simon got no further, because you didn't have to be a Sentinel to hear Blair's shocked gasp for air. No, this couldn't be right. It couldn't be Rich, whose body was lying torn and bloody in this alley, only a few feet from his home.

"What's the matter, Sandburg?"

Blair didn't answer Simon's question but continued to stare at the sheet that was hiding most of the body. Unconscious he let his control go for a little moment in the hope to confirm, or better _not to confirm, the identity of the murder victim. But it was Richard. The unique smell mixed with Cassy's was still there._

//Haven, Cassy!//

"Chief? Hey Blair, are you still with us?"

Jim's voice finally reached Blair who looked rather startled at his Sentinel and Captain.

"Do you know somebody with this name, Sandburg?"

There was a hint of concern evident in Simon's voice, not much, but it was enough. Blair nodded slightly before he said softly:

"Rich is… was… an acquaintance of mine. He lived here with his finance, Cassandra. She and I are rather good friends… has anybody talked to her yet?"

"We didn't even know he had an finance." Simon said, and started bellowing in the general direction of some poor officer who was supposed to find out this little detail. Before anybody could say another word, there was a scream from behind. A woman, probably in her late twenties, had apparently heard the last part of the conversation between the three men, and was now moving rapidly towards them.

To the astonishment of Simon and Jim, Blair moved first, and caught the women in his arms.

"Shhh, Twinkle, calm down."

Murmuring nonsense Blair tried to calm the women who was crying violently.

"It is Rich, isn't it Dreamer? He wasn't there when I came home this morning, but I thought he just had a late night call. And now he's dead and…"

Hysterical, she started talking and just couldn't stop while Blair still held her tightly making a slight rocking motion in the attempt to calm her. Simon and Jim were both at a loss what to do, besides the fact that Blair seemed to have the situation fully under control. After a while the women's sobs started to ease, but Blair didn't stop holding her.

"I'm going to call Micah, okay? I'm sure you can stay with him for awhile."

"But… but won't the police have questions?"

Her voice sounded hoarse from crying and her eyes still sparkled with unshed tears. Blair shook his head:

"I'm sure they can wait a day until you had a little chance to pull yourself together."

Blair shot a glare over her shoulder towards Simon and Jim, daring them to say something different. They didn't. Blair was right, questions could wait another day, the women obviously needed some rest. Reassured that Sandburg would take care of the potential witness for now, Simon and Jim turned their attention towards more pressing matters. So neither of them overheard the phone call Blair made a minute later.

-"Hello?"-

A slightly British accented voice answered the phone. Blair, recognizing the voice immediately didn't waste time with pleasantries. 

"It's Blair. We have a problem, Uncle Micah!"

-"Straight to the point, huh. What kind of problem?"-

The other man sounded amused at first, but grew serious very fast. He knew, that his _nephew_ wouldn't call like this, if it wasn't really important. Blair took a deep breath, suddenly not so sure anymore how to break the news to Micah.

"Richard Northstar was killed last night."

For a long moment there was silence on the other side of the line, then:

-"Who will take care of Cassandra?"-

The voice sounded a bit pressed, as if the other man had to force himself to talk. Blair could understand him. He himself had yet to fully realize the shocking event, but at the moment he had no time for a breakdown. He had to take care of a pack-member!

"I had hoped, you could arrange something. She is in shock right now and I don't think she should be left alone. Then there is the little matter that the police will have some questions."

The thing with the police investigation troubled Blair a bit. He knew, that Cassy was most likely one of the current suspects. The last thing they needed was a nosy detective (most likely Jim) to stumble over the _Secret_. Micah had to realize this too.

-"I agree it would be better if she was here at the lair…"-

There was a short pause, before Micah continued:

-"Why do I get the feeling that there is something else?"-

Again Blair tried to figure out the best way to tell this. It wasn't an easy think and he knew that Micah would like it even less than himself.

"There is, Storm. The killer was one of us."

-"What? Dreamer, are you absolutely sure about this?"-

Shock, disbelief and a hint of anger were evident in the voice which suddenly seemed ice cold. Blair shuddered a bit at this tone. A deadly tone.

"Believe me, I am sure. I wouldn't say something if I weren't. No human could do something like this. _This looks like the work of a hunting pack…"_

-"Are you aware what you are saying there?"-

The tone was still deadly serious, but had lost some of its coldness.

"Yes, I know. We will have to talk about this later. The most pressing matter at the moment is to get Cassy away from here."

-"I agree to this. I'll send someone to pick her up. Tonight we will meet and discuss the matters with the rest of the pack!"-

"You won't get an argument from me. I'll be there tonight."

-"Take care, Dreamer."-

A small smile crept on Blair's face, when he heard these words, but it was very short-lived.

"I will!"

With this promise Blair disconnected the line and cast a wary glance around. Cassy still sat a few meters from him, with a blanket around her shoulders, supplied by a medic. Someone had given her a cup of coffee, which set now forgotten in her hands. She hadn't moved one inch since Blair had led her there, her eyes glazed over from the shock.

Silently Blair sat down next to her, pulled her into a hug and started to stroke her back again. Instinctively she leaned into his touch. How do you comfort somebody who just lost the person they loved the most? Blair didn't really know what to do; he was operating on instinct here. But this was after all his duty in the pack, to care for those who needed it.

While holding his distressed friend tightly in his arms, hoping to ease a little bit of her emotional pain, he looked around and spotted Jim who was busy interviewing some of the tenants of the apartment-building ("have you seen/heard something suspicious" etc.). Sometimes Blair wondered what Jim would say to his position in the pack.  But to see this reaction, Jim would have to know about the pack at all and this was something that probably wouldn't happen in the near future. How do you tell your best friend that you are a werewolf?

A big, dark car pulled into the street and stopped a few meters away from the yellow police-tape that was blocking the street. A few police officers were eyeing the car with barely-hidden displeasure. They probably suspected another reporter, or worse, somebody from the FBI. The looks of the car most certainly fitted the stereotype, but Blair knew better.

A young, red-haired woman emerged from the car, looking around searchingly. A small, happy smile crept on Blair's face, when he recognized her.

"Celeste! Over here!"

He hadn't called very loud, but she had heard him nonetheless and came over. Blair didn't realize that she wasn't the only one who heard. A few hundred meters away Jim Ellison crooked his head in his typical listening pose. It wasn't exactly nice to listen in on his friend, but Jim was just a little bit curious who this woman was.

"Dreamer! I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

Jim frowned. This was the second time today somebody called Sandburg "Dreamer". If this was such a common nickname for Blair, why did Jim not know it? And Blair seemed rather comfortable with this name so it couldn't be a brand new invention.

Blair walked towards the woman, never letting go of his friend.

"Hey, Swift! Forgive me if I say this, but I could have waited with the reunion, under these circumstances."

Swift? Jim's puzzlement only grew, when he heard this name. And, now that he thought about it, hadn't Blair called this Cassandra "Twinkle"? Were they all in the same student-club and had thought of some code names or what? If yes, they could have done better, Jim thought with a smirk.

"Thunder already mentioned what happened... are you really sure about the murder?"

Blair nodded solemnly

"I am as sure as possible. Everything around here points towards it."

The frown reappeared on Jims face. What were this two talking about? What was it that Blair was so sure about? And what exactly had he told his friend on the phone? Did he know something about this case he wasn't telling? No, surely Blair wouldn't do something like that, would he?

"Thunder is calling a meeting tonight, but I think you know that already. Whoever did this is not going unpunished."

The cold, determined words of the women send a shudder down Jim's spine. She was absolutely serious about this, but it was Blair's answer that really chilled him.

"I agree with you. This can't go unanswered. But at the moment Cassy is more important than our revenge. Where are you going to take her?"

"To her family. Thunder can give you the address, if the police is going to need it."

She glared into the general direction of the present officers. It was clear that she did not like the police, but Jim was too caught up with another problem. What had Blair meant, when he said it couldn't go 'unanswered'? Hearing this words Jim felt like in a bad Mafia-film. Even if he hadn't been sure before, now Jim was convinced that something was going on here, and his partner was knee-deep involved in all this. But how to proceed further? Observing Blair and the woman leading 'Cassy' towards the car Jim thought about the possibilities. Of course he could always try the direct approach and simply _ask_ Blair what was going on, but he got the feeling that this wouldn't get him very far. If Blair didn't want to tell, then he would find a way not to tell Jim, even if the detective asked him directly. The other option was to keep an eye on Blair and find out for himself and Jim wasn't exactly comfortable with this either. It would mean violating the trust Blair put in him to leave his private life private.

But what if Blair was really involved in this murder?

Turning back to the task of sweeping the crime scene, Jim tried to figure out what to do.

***************

"So, you have another date tonight?" Jim asked while observing Blair who was getting ready to leave. He wouldn't tell him that he knew (or at last suspected) that he wasn't going to a date. Somehow Jim had hoped that Blair would tell him on his own, what was going on, but the younger man hadn't said a word. He acted as if nothing was off.

No, that wasn't right. Blair had been a bit jumpy throughout the day, but you could always chalk this up to the murder-scene. It wasn't something even seasoned cops could easily stomach. But what made Jim so damn suspicious was the cold determination that shone in Blair's eyes since the identity of the victim had been confirmed. If it had been anyone but Blair, Jim would have said he was out for revenge. But Blair wasn't the type for self-made justice, was he?

"It's not exactly a date Jim, more like meeting some friends." Blair replied absently, lacing his shoes. Jim never took his eyes off his friend and roommate. Okay, he wasn't lying outright (something rather senseless with a Sentinel aka human lie-detector), but he wasn't telling the whole truth either.

"When do you think you will be back?"

Blair gave Jim a slightly mischievous look and asked:

"You playing concerned father now? Put the Blessed-Protector back in the closet, will you? I'm a big boy!"

Despite himself Jim started grinning.

"I just want to know at what time I can start being worried."

"Seriously, I don't know, when I will be back. Could get pretty late."

"Okay, so I will wait with the missing-person-report until tomorrow morning."

Blair mock-glared at his friend, but didn't comment. He simply grabbed his jacket and backpack and made his way to the door.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay. Bye."

Without waiting for a reply, Blair was out of the loft. Jim waited perhaps one minute, before he took his own jacket off the hook and started to follow Blair.

***************

It wasn't difficult for a Sentinel to follow somebody without being seen. Blair had driven to the other side of Cascade. Here the wealthier population of Cascade had their homes and Jim also knew that some of the big bosses of the organized crime had their homes here, too. The kind of people the police simply knew that they were involved in the crimes, but were never able to prove something. What the hell did Blair want here?

The Volvo stopped in front of the gate to a mansion. A short talk with the security guards, big, closet-type guys at least 6''4 tall and half as broad. Blair got through the gate without any problems. Jim remained in his truck, far enough away to not look suspicious. He didn't dare to stretch his hearing far enough to listen in on the conversations in the house. The risk of zoning was simply too great. For a few moments he considered trying to sneak into the mansion, but one close look at the security measures showed him, that this wouldn't be a good idea.

He stayed where he was for another few minutes, before he decided to drive home, but not before he hadn't written down the address for further investigation. Perhaps the police-computers would hold something useable about the owner of this mansion.

***************

Blair had no problems in getting past the two security guards at the gate. He was still very well known as a member of the pack, even if he had withdrawn a bit from his responsibility during the last years. He really didn't think that he could cover his work at the university, the work with Jim at the predict and his responsibility for the pack all at once. His days were a few hours short like it was now.

Going into the house, that was big enough to be called a mansion, Blair could feel the presence of the others. It wasn't the threatened and challenged feeling he had at the crime scene today. These were members of his pack after all. No member of a pack would ever be a real danger for another member; it was like an unwritten law. Blair felt unbelievably safe here. The only other person who could make him feel like this, completely safe and protected, was Jim.

A little sting of guilt shot through Blair when he thought of his friend. He should have told him long ago about all of this. It wasn't as if he had to fear that Jim would betray his people, after all this man had more than one skeleton in the closet, too, and the Sentinel-thing wasn't the only one. Perhaps he had kept his silence for the last years, because at first he had never suspected to get so close to this particular ex-military hard-ass cop. Even when he moved in with Jim (for one week) he hadn't considered letting him in on this secret. Then, when their friendship deepened further, Blair had feared telling Jim. How would Jim react to the fact, that Blair had hidden such a secret from him for such a long time? It was better not telling Jim, than losing his trust over this matter. And there were simply no way to tell something like this the easy way. Tell a cop who had a very hard time believing in supernatural things, even while being the walking, talking proof that there was more in this world, than science acknowledged that there was a whole subculture in his city consisting of beings out of dark legends and novels. Jim would probably laugh if Blair ever tried to tell him and think that his friend was pulling his leg.

It was a phenomenon in itself, that the world at large still had no idea about the existence of them. They lived among the people, strictly following the words 'live and let live'. Or, like Blair sometimes thought: 'You don't hurt me and I have no reason to make your life hell'. Because who ever was idiot enough to mess with the pack, would soon enough find himself ruing his actions bitterly. But none of them had any desire to let the world now about the existence of werewolf's. Notwithstanding the fear of ending up in some secret government laboratory to be tested and dissected, there was also another deep-rooted fear. People in general had never reacted well towards things they couldn't (or wouldn't) understand. History clearly showed the results when this fear of the unknown turned into hate and no one had the desire to conjure a new version of the witch-hunts. So the second unwritten law was simply: Keep the secret!

While thinking, Blair had walked up to the great hall, where short-notice meetings like this always took place. It had been some time since such a meeting had been called, normally the monthly get-together were more than enough to take care of all problems concerning the pack. The last one had only been yesterday and Blair desperately wished this meeting hadn't been necessary.

"Dreamer!"

Blair looked up startled. He had been so deep in thought, that he hadn't heard Micah approaching. His name was proving true yet again.

"Hello Uncle."

A small smile crept on Micah's face. He had always liked Blair calling him this, even if he wasn't his real Uncle, not exactly. Micah was the cousin of Blair's father and the person who had explained to Blair what was going on with him, when his heritage first showed itself. Needless to say, that Naomi hadn't been very happy about all this. If somebody had asked her she would have said that her son would have nothing to do with these 'violent people'. But in this particular situation no one asked her opinion and Blair actually liked Micah from the first moment on.

"I'm glad you could make it so soon. Did you find out anything new?"

"No", Blair replied, shaking his head, "Nothing I didn't at least suspect before. The forensic team found a few hairs at the scene. Human ones, from both the victim and the potential killer and some wolf-hairs. They still trying to figure out what this could mean. But these were the only things they were able to find."

"So you are sure, that the murderer was one of us?"

It wasn't really a question, more like a statement. Micah's expression had gone hard while saying these words. Blair's look mirrored his.

"As much as I wish that it were something else, I have no doubt any more. Not after being there."

"Come. You can tell us all the facts, Dreamer. Then we can decide what to do."

Blair followed his Uncle to the head of the room. A large, round table took most of the space having places for all pack-members. Everyone had his or her assigned place at the table, according to their rank in the pack.

The hierarchy inside the pack was a source of never-ending fascination for the anthropologist in Blair. Had his dissertation really been about closed societies, his time at the PD had been completely unnecessary. _This_ was the absolute prime example of a closed society with all its special rules and little trip holes. Okay, maybe he was far to "native" to ever be able to write an objective paper. But it was fun nevertheless to look at the dynamics from his academic standpoint.

Blair himself held a rather high position inside the pack, something that still amazed him. It had nothing to do with the fact, that he was a close relative of one of the elders. Family connections weren't important here, it was knowledge and ability that counted. And so it happened that Blair Sandburg had become, at the age of 23, a very respected member of the higher circle in the pack. Even if he wasn't present at most meetings after he discovered _his_ sentinel, his reputation hadn't suffered. Everyone in the pack knew that if there was any problem they could still come to Blair for help, they just had to be a little bit more discrete.

Jim and the gang at Major Crimes would probably be rather surprised if they ever discovered that their resident Neo-Hippie-Witchdoctor-Punk also played trouble-line in his free time. But then,perhaps they wouldn't be terrible surprised, after all Jim accused him often enough of being just too helpful.

"Silence!"

Justin, one of the council members, had spoken. His deep, rumbling voice carried easily over the murmur of many voices and had the desired effect. Everyone shut up. Obviously happy with himself Justin, also called Blizzard, sat down and gave the word to Micah.

"I'm sure I don't need to say, that it is a very serious matter we need to speak about tonight. Cassandra Steven's chosen mate has been killed…"

A shocked gasp ran through the present, but Micah wasn't finished yet:

"…But this is not the worst. Dreamer tells me, that it was one of our people who committed the murder."

Now the shocked voices raised considerably in volume. It was something unthinkable. Despite what legends said, werewolves like them never had been to keen of killing for other reasons then to hunt. There was nothing even remotely as bad as killing a human. Sometimes Blair would really like to know, where this gruesome legends about his kind had come from. They maybe had the ability to kill, but didn't use it other than for hunting.

What made the whole affair worse was that Richard had been a normal human, one of the few who knew about them. An honorable member of the tribe so to say, not exactly a common thing, but accepted. His murder was equally bad, if not worse, as if a _normal_ pack-member had been killed.

"Are you sure, Dreamer?"

The man beside Justin, Blair could only remember, that he was called Claw, favored him with a hard, hawk-like stare that send shivers down Blair's back. The man was famous for his no nonsense attitude.

"I am sure. No doubt."

"Then explain, what brought you to that conclusion!"

Blair couldn't loose the feeling, that he was being interrogated. He stood up, cast a short look around, then started retelling what happened this morning.

"… The body looked horrible, I've never seen something like this before. Simon Banks, the police captain, said that it looked like an animal ripped Richard apart. When I came near the body I could feel that another one had been there. Someone not part of our pack. And whoever it was wanted to make sure that one like us would recognize that he had been there. I felt… I don't know, challenged. It was overwhelming! I could hardly restrain myself from changing. And then the forensic teams found some animal hairs at the scene. They're fairly certain that they are wolf hairs…"

Blair fell silent. There wasn't anything else to tell anymore. What he had told was enough to prove his point, more than enough. For an uncomfortably long time no one in the room said anything. The silence was scary. At last, it was Micah who broke the silence:

"I don't understand it. From what Dreamer tells, it sounds like a challenge for territory, but something like this hasn'thappened in more than a century. And not even then, someone would kill a human member of the packs. Never…"

Trailing of, Micah looked around the table. He couldn't shake off the feeling, that this was just the beginning of their problems. He met the worried look of his nephew. No, the problems were far from over.

***************

"Damn it!"

Jim Ellison hit his desk with all frustration currently brewing inside him. It didn't help since his hand was protesting against the abuse rather painfully. The other people in the bullpen cast wary glazes towards their college but weren't suicidal enough to comment. Ellison with a foul temper was something you better avoided, most of all when Sandburg was not around. Everybody knew, that the hard-ass detective was way easier to live with when the grand-student was at the station and this hadm't happened very often in the last month. Combined with the fact that Ellison's current case was stuck, the man was like a disaster waiting to happen.

"Ellison! My office!"

Simon Banks loud voice startled everyone in the bullpen. The captain wasn't in the best mood either and no one was keen to stand at the receiving end of the captain's wrath.

Grumbling like a bear with toothache Ellison made his way towards Banks office. Shutting the door Jim glared at his boss who glared right back. The silence stretched for about ten seconds, then Simon asked:

"Any particular reason why you're trying to demolish the interior of the bullpen or has something happened that I should know?"

"Nothing happened, that's the reason. Absolutely nothing! Nearly a month of investigating and we are still standing on square one. We have no suspect, no motive, nothing!"

Jim had started to pace while venting off his frustration. This case was tearing at his nerves. Whatever possible leads they followed it turned out to be a dead end. It seemed as if Jim had encountered something he always denied believing in: the perfect crime! Whoever murdered Richard Northstar, he left nothing at the scene, which could have led the investigators to him.

Apart from this Jim was still not entirely sure that Blair didn't know something about all this that he wasn't telling. Jim had checked the address ofthe mansion, but came up empty handed. The owner was a Micah Petrov, forth generation American with absolute no rap sheet whatsoever. Not even a speeding-ticket in the last twenty years. The man was suspiciously clean of any kind of crime, and Jim had still no explanation how Blair knew this man. But it wasn't this that kept Jim's suspicious. It was Blair's behavior whenever they talked about the case. It wasn't something concrete, just a hunch. It was driving Jim crazy. If it hadn't meant admitting that he had been following Blair, Jim would have asked his partner about all this some time ago. But Jim Ellison was stubborn.

As if reading his thoughts, Simon asked this moment:

"And where the hell is Sandburg?"

Jim shrugged.

"Ask an easier question Simon. All he said this morning was that he had something else to do and before I could ask any specifics, he was away. Like always during the last weeks."

Simon's eyebrows started to rise in surprise. So on top of a stressful case, Jim was having a fight with his friend? That could explain why the mood of his best detective had been dropping towards absolute zero during the last few hours.

"Did he have any intention of showing up today at all?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. I don't care either. If he has something more important to do, than he should do it."

Translation: Jim Ellison's ego was hurt, because Sandburg had found something else beside the Sentinel-Project to occupy his time. A small smile appeared on Simon's features, which he tried to hide immediately.

"Listen to me, Jim! You are going to go homenow and take a little break. It helps nobody if you're terrifying the other people in the bullpen."

"But Sir…!"

"I can make this an order Ellison! Go home, rest and come back when your mood has improved!"

Jim glared at his boss once again, but had no real argument against his orders. It wasn't as if he was going anywhere while he was here. Grumbling he left Simons office, grabbed his things and left. He wasn't sure what he would do at home, but perhaps he really would get a chance to get a little break.

***************

Subdued Blair walked along the street towards the police station. He had needed a little time to clear his head and so he had left the car at the U and used the bus system to get to his destination. One would think that the walk in the rainy weather was the reason for Blair's gloomy mood, but it wasn't. It was the situation at the PD that was responsible for it. One month had gone by and the detectives of Major Crimes were not a bit closer to catching Richards's killer. Not that Blair had expected them to find anything, but he felt very sorry for his friends who were working overtime on this case and coming up empty handed. Most of all Jim seemed to be extremely frustrated with the situation, which gave Blair a slightly bad conscience. Sometimes he suspected that Jim's sense of responsibility was also enhanced.

The pack had gone out and investigated by itself, hoping that the various connections would bring more than the police could find out. And they had. Yesterday Micah had called and asked Blair to come to his house this morning. So Blair had thought of an excuse for Jim and went. When he reached his uncle's house another man had waited there, too. A were himself, but not part of the pack…

Upon spotting more precisely feeling the man, Blair had frozen. He had never been particularly mistrusting of strangers since he had been a stranger in someone else's territory most of his life, but the events a month ago had made him suspicious. Remaining standing in the door Blair had glared at the man, trying to decide what to do.

//I'm acting exactly like Jim, when he gets territorial. He would never let me live this down//

"Calm down Dreamer! This one is a friend."

Micah's words had calmed Blair somewhat, but he had kept throwing mistrusting glances towards the visitor who had kept a respectful distance away fromthe young man.

"This is Runner, a friend of mine from Seattle. I called you dreamer, because there has been some development."

The man momentarily forgotten, Blair had transferred his gaze towards his uncle.

"What kind of development?"

It hadn't been Micah who had answered but Runner:

"The murder that occurred here wasn't the first of its kind. We know of a few cases in San Francisco. In Seattle about five kills like this happened before it stopped. The targets were always humans in a relationship with a pack member or half-breeds. In Seattle we found out who was behind this, but sadly they escaped before we could catch them."

"Who?"

"A group of young ones. Apparently they think that they must protect the _blood_ or something equally stupid; and so they go around killing. In my personal opinion they just needed an excuse for a blood-hunt."

Blair had swallowed hard. They had only been one blood-hunt in history and it had been a damn bloody affair.

"Do you have names?"

A nod had come from Runner.

"A few, but not all. But your pack should have a little advantage over them, for they don't know that you know about them. Perhaps you will manage to catch them before they do to much damage."

Thoughtfully Blair started to chew on his bottom lip, then turned towards Micah:

"I also could try to give the information to the police, without them knowing were it comes from. When they start looking for them, perhaps they get careless and we can get our hands on them."

"And you can help your friends."

Micah had said with a knowing smile on his lips. Blair had blushed a little, but it was the truth after all. Jim and the others were working so hard on this; they deserved a little lead. At Runner's puzzled gaze Micah had explained:

"Dreamer here works part-time with the police. From his reports, they can't find anything."

Micah had agreed that Blair should try to lead Jim subtly towards the killers. Blair was still pondering on the question of how exactly he should do this.

While walking Blair thought about Runners words once again and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Runner had said the victims were all either humans or half-breeds. A sinking feeling settled in Blair's stomach. After all, he himself was a half-breed and held a pretty high station inside the pack. Swallowing hard Blair realized that he could be in considerable danger himself. However, he was living with a police officer and was related to the packs alpha. Perhaps a bit to high-profile for this guys. He hoped.

So. Now he knew who was behind the murder and why, but how could he tell Jim without telling the Sentinel the rest of the story? Subtly Micah had said. As if this was so easy with a nonstop suspicious and at the moment stressed-out detective who had the advantage of superior senses. Deep in thought Blair entered the police station.


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: We own nothing but the story. Everything else, including the correct English spelling and grammar (THANKS to our beta-reader Shedoc at this point), belongs to other people. We are NOT making money with this. It is just for our enjoyment.

A/N: Since it seems that someone is actually reading this story and enjoying it (thanks for the feedback!) here is the next part. Sorry for the cliff-hanger at the end, it couldn't be helped. Enjoy reading!

********************

"Chief, wake up!"

Blair blinked awake and looked at Jim's face hovering over him.

"Whais?"

It was in the middle of the night, he wasn't supposed to be able to form intelligent sentences. Blair hadn't slept well to begin with. For one it was the night of the full moon. Blair had never been able to sleep very well on these nights, his blood called to him to be outside under the silvery light of the moon, running, hunting. If it hadn't been the middle of the week he would have been out clubbing or doing something else to burn away the superfluous energy radiating through his system.

He had tried to sleep but it hadn't worked. Half the night he tried to find a possibility to steer the Detectives of major crimes on the right path. Most of all to find a way to avoid being too conspicuous while doing it. It always ended with the same conclusion: Blair would have to tell Jim what was going on. All of it. Micah would _not_ be happy about a decision like this.

Because of these two factors Blair took even longer than usual to wake up enough to get his brain started.

"Come on, Blair, wake up. Simon called."

"Why?"

There: an intelligible word. Of course it was only one syllable but better than nothing.

"There was another murder. Simon said we should come over immediately."

Yawning heavily Blair sat up in his bed and grumbled what sounded suspiciously like the question, why murderers couldn't keep civil working times. Jim chose _not_ to comment.

It was still dark outside, only a very faint shimmer of false dawn could be seen in the east. Blair tried to get a bit more desperately needed sleep in the car, but it was a futile attempt with Jim driving.

The sun hadn't climbed up yet when Jim and Blair reached the address Simon had given his Detective. The closer they got to their destination the more nervous Blair got. He had had a bad feeling about this since Jim had woken him, but it intensified when he recognized the neighbourhood.

Leaving Jim's truck behind among the various police cars the two friends went to find their captain.

The hearse was already there and the men waited for the police to finish their work first. Uniformed Police officers were busy keeping curious passer-by's from entering the building as well as trying the same with some noisy reporters who had already shown up. One obnoxious cameraman was trying time and time again to get past the yellow tape to get some good pictures. Crossing said tape Blair and Jim were assaulted by a multitude of questions but they both ignored them.

Walking up to the old apartment building they could see an officer sitting on the steps, his face a curious shade of green. From the distinct odour around Jim concluded that the man had lost his breakfast (or dinner?) not long ago. And it seemed that he wasn't the only one with problems keeping his stomach under control. Everyone coming out of the house was either white or green in the face (or any possible combination of those two colours.). This did not bode well at all.

"Hey guys, did Simon wake you two, too?" asked Henri Brown who had just walked up to them. He didn't look too well either. Blair answered his question with an only slightly faked yawn and a nod. The show only rated a tired grin from H before his face became serious again. Jim cast a quick, searching look around before asking:

"Where did you leave your partner?"

H grimaced.

"He is currently loosing whatever he ate. I'm on my way to get a glass of water for him. I don't envy you two that you have to go up there. It looks like the nightmare of a splatter-film-director. I nearly lost my breakfast, too. Whoever did this is seriously sick!"

With this statement Brown left to return to his quest to get a glass of water for his partner. Jim and Blair shared a long look. If a long-seasoned cop like Brian Rafe lost control over his stomach like this neither of them was sure if they wanted to know what the scene looked like.

"Perhaps you should sit this one out, Blair." Jim said concerned. It would be enough if one of them had nightmares for the next few weeks. But Blair only looked ahead with determination.

"No. You're going to need me if H was right. I can deal!"

"You're sure?" Jim asked once again. He wouldn't have needed to. Blair had decided that his Sentinel would need him and now nothing would stop him. He would do whatever he had to do.

Simon waited for them just inside the apartment building, giving in to his nervous habit of chewing on an unlit cigar. As soon as Jim and Blair were in (a normal humans) hearing range he announced in his usual gruff tone of voice:

"Looks suspiciously like the one a month ago, that's why I called you two in. The victim was killed in his own apartment. Messy thing."

Without further comments Simon led the two up the stairs into the first floor. Before they were even up the first flight of stairs Jim stopped abruptly and then took a few steps back, a look of total and utter disgust on his face. Simon and Blair could already detect the smell of blood, but for Jim it had to be way more intense.

Before Simon could even react or Jim fall into his zone, Blair was beside his Sentinel murmuring in a soft voice, giving commands to help him gain back the control over his errant sense. It took some minutes before Jim was ready to face the world again then he said:

"Heaven Simon! What happened up there? I've been to slaughter-houses that didn't stink like this."

"Like I told you Detective, it's a messy thing. Do you think you have enough control to have a look around?"

Jim nodded shortly and they continued there way up the stairs. Simon meanwhile continued to inform them about the case:

"As far as we know the victim is Victor Kelling. At least this is the tenant of the apartment. There isn't exactly much left to do an identification on…"

Simon and Jim went straight into the apartment through the open door, but Blair remained frozen at the entrance, staring. This had to be a nightmare! Until a minute ago Blair had managed to ignore all the facts but now everything came crashing down on him.

"Chief? Blair, are you all right?"

Shaking off his daze Blair locked his eyes with the concerned one of his best friend and partner.

"No." was Blair's simple answer. He still hadn't moved from his spot at the apartment door, still staring into the hall. Some part of him wanted to let his wolf-part loose to confirm or deny what he already knew for sure.

"Is there something you want to tell us, Sandburg? Perhaps it would be better if you stayed outside." Simon said with a strange mix between impatience and concern. Blair nodded then shook his head and swallowed hard.

"I know… knew the victim. We were friends. Real good ones… we met just two days ago at the U…"

All annoyance fled Simon's features to leave only compassion. Jim looked even more worried than minutes ago.

"Maybe it would be better if you don't see it then, Sandburg. It really isn't pretty."

Blair shook his head, his expression set into cold determination. The moment Jim had woke him and said that there had been another murder Blair had known that another one of his pack had been killed. But it had been abstract knowledge. Even down on the street the truth hadn't hit him like this.

To actually stand at the apartment turned crime scene of a dear friend was much worse that just knowing that your friend had been killed.

"I can manage, Simon."

_I'll have to_ he added silently.

A nod from the captain and a concerned look from Jim was Blair's answer to the statement. But neither of them said anything against Blair entering the apartment anymore.

Simon had been right. It was everything but pretty. Blood and… other things, overturned and broken furniture and shattered breakables littered the whole room. Distantly Blair was aware of Simon's voice explaining:

"…The door was broken off of its hinges by sheer force. Whoever forced his way inside was very strong. We really don't know much at the moment, but the MO is close enough to the murder a month ago to draw parallels…"

"A new serial-killer, Sir?" Jim asked. Blair still couldn't take his eyes from the bloodstained cloth, which was hiding the remains of his friend. For a short moment his normally blue eyes flashed amber-gold. For a werewolf's senses everything around looked different. He could clearly detect traces of the others, the foreign Weres that had been here. It had been more than one assailant; of this Blair was sure. The different smells around were too clear. 

"I would love to tell you no on this one, Detective, I really would. This is only the second murder so let's hope that this isn't another lunatic loose in Cascade!"

_Sorry, Simon. This is going to be a serial-killer if we don't stop them soon. They sure as hell won't_ Blair thought. He had felt it since they had entered the apartment: Another challenge to his pack. These youngsters wouldn't stop until they got a reaction out of the local pack. If they would like the reaction they would receive was another matter entirely.

"Blair?"

Jim had noticed his friend's silence. At first he had thought it was because he had trouble dealing with the picture the apartment made but Blair didn't look scared or ill anymore, he looked furious.

"Why? Why Vic? He was so gentle; he wouldn't even hurt a fly _or the rabbit we were hunting_. Why would these bastards go after him?!"

Even as he talked Blair knew the answer. Vic had been a half-breed just like himself and he had been easy to reach. Vic hadn't been in close contact with the pack anymore, trying to fend for himself for a while. He had wanted to open his own bookstore and become rich.

Now he was dead.

Damn cowardly bastards!

Thankfully neither Simon nor Jim noticed that Blair was talking about more than one culprit. It would have raised a few questions Blair wasn't willing to answer just yet.

"Calm down, Chief. We're going to catch whoever did this to your friend. You'll see."

Blair suppressed a bitter laugh. Barely. He didn't think that the guys who did this would ever see a judge about it. They challenged the pack; they would be dealt with by the pack. The police could have the remains.

"Go Jim, do your thing. The sooner you finish the sooner we can get out of here." Simon said to bring his Detective back to the matter at hand. Jim nodded shortly before beginning a systematic look around, aided by his senses. Blair followed close behind, for one making sure that his Sentinel wouldn't zone or suffer sensory spikes, but also to have his own special look around. If he let his wolf-side loose his own senses were for the most part much better than a normal humans ones. Most of all hearing and smell, the last one was even better than Jim's. This was one situation Blair wasn't glad about this fact. He could understand very well why his Sentinel hadn't wanted to come up here. On the other hand, his sight as a wolf was nothing close to Jim's abilities in this area. It wasn't enough that he was a bit shortsighted in full human-form, as a wolf the term got a whole new meaning. All the colours were different; partly as a wolf Blair could 'see' colours humans didn't even know. 

One of his friends in the pack, an artist, had tried to paint a picture the way a Were saw the world. The painting had got a rather high price at an auction as surreal artwork. It was a weird experience and one of the reasons why werewolves didn't rely on sight as their main sense.

Carefully, always keeping an eye on Jim, Blair opened himself for his wolf-side. It was a difficult operation to use only the senses to the fullest extent possible and at the same time not to change. Under normal circumstances Blair would have never risked it and trusted Jim's abilities, but not now. This was personal. Perhaps he could find something Jim wouldn't find, since the Sentinel didn't know what he was looking for. The killers couldn't be so clever to outwit them forever, they simply had to make a mistake at some point, and Blair was determined to be there when it happened.

The living room, where the corpse had been found, was a mess. Everything looked like after a hard fight: nothing, furniture, books or the window-curtains. were where they were supposed to be anymore. Looking around while at the same time coaching Jim to find clues, Blair started to see the murder again before his inner eye.

The heavy couch was overturned, the cheap TV-set shattered /_Vic is sitting on the couch watching TV when he hears the front door shatter. Before he has the chance to stand up and see what is going on the assailants are storming into the room, attacking and pushing Vic backwards so that he stumbles over his TV, which falls to the floor and breaks with a small explosion./_

The cupboard at the right wall was lying on the floor, its glass doors shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. /_Shifting into the half form in a matter of seconds Vic tries to defend himself against his attackers but he isn't fast enough. He is thrown backwards into the cupboard. Glass shatters_/

Blair closed his eyes holding back tears of helpless rage. He still could remember the day Vic had found this pseudo-antique piece of Taiwanese junk at a small garage sale to which he had dragged Blair with great enthusiasm (and much less from Blair). Vic had fallen in love with the cupboard on the spot even if it looked like a penguin in the desert in his apartment. But Vic hadn't cared at all.

Some of the little glass shards were glistering with red blood. Blair could detect the bitter tang of fear and pain in the air and wondered if Jim was able to smell it too.

A bloody trail dragged itself over to the back of the living room. The table and mismatching chairs that had once stood here were broken and overturned. /_In an attempt to flee from the others Vic tears away and tries to reach the front door. The others intercept him and another struggle follows. With animalistic rage Vic breaks a chair over the back of one of his attackers. The Were goes down, but not for long_/

Blair really hated his shamanic abilities sometimes. Like now. A 'normal' Were would have been able to tell how the fight had moved through the apartment, too, but Blair could really see what had happened, an observer of an act long over, helpless to do anything.

Trying desperately to keep his concentration Blair was more determined then ever to find out what had happened.

The bookcase on the left wall still stood, but only barely. Most of the books lay on the floor. /_Getting more desperate by the minute Vic tries another route. Managing to break away from the attackers once more he stumbles forward. Without orientation he crashes in the bookcase, then runs along it, throwing down the books in an attempt to slow his pursuers down_/

Totally blurred and bloody handprints decorated the wall behind the overturned TV. At some places the wallpaper was torn down. /_As fast as he could Vic stumbles along the wall, climbing over his broken TV, only one destination in mind. His last chance to get out of here._/

The curtains at the only window in the room were torn down and lying in a heap on the ground. At the wooden window-frame Blair could detect claw marks. The glass was broken, the edges bloody. A long trail of blood led from here to the body, which lay more or less in the middle of the room. The carpet was torn in places. It looked like somebody had tried to hold onto it and had been dragged away. /_The window, the only other way out. Not caring to open it, Vic breaks the glass and tries to climb through, injuring himself further, when somebody grabs him from behind, trying to drag him away. Desperate Vic tries to grab something to hold onto. The curtains break down and the wood of the window-framed doesn't give any hold either. Against all his resistance Vic is dragged away from the window. He doesn't give up fighting, but he stands no chance. He is helplessly overpowered._/

Blair was breathing hard; a helpless anger had him nearly trembling. Vic's end hadn't been easy at all nor fast. It was all so unfair.

Blair didn't realize it, but his eyes were practical glowing in their eerie amber colour. A voiceless growl sounded deep in his throat.

A big but gentle hand on his shoulder startled Blair out of his thoughts. Simon stood behind him, looking at him worriedly.

"Everything all right, Sandburg?"

Blair just stared wide-eyed at the police-captain for a long moment before announcing in a strained voice:

"I have to get out of here!"

Blair couldn't believe it. He had come too damn close to letting his wolfish nature free. That would have been a major disaster. But he was so damn mad at the moment it was hard to control his second nature.

Without waiting for any comment from Simon or Jim, Blair turned around and left his friend's apartment as fast as he could. As soon as he was out of the door he started running down the stairs, past a few startled police officers. All that was on his mind was, that he needed to get away from the scene for a few minutes before he completely lost it.

Simon and Jim, still standing where Blair had left them shared a long look. With a motion of his head Simon send Jim after the young observer. Not that Jim had needed the order; he had already been halfway out of the door before realizing that he still had a job to do. When Jim had disappeared to search for his guide Simon started thinking. He could understand that Blair had needed a break. It wasn't easy to find out that a good friend of yours had been murdered and in such a gruesome way.

Thinking and chewing on his unlit cigar (the nicotine-gum some joker had left on his desk last week were still in his car) Simon wandered through the apartment, listening to the forensic-people telling him that no, they still hadn't found anything, and started to compare this murder to the one a month ago. Aside from the state the body was found in, there seemed to be absolutely no parallels between those two. The first had been a native-American, thirty-six, a successful doctor at the hospital and only few month away of becoming a husband, too. This one was a young graduated student, not even thirty years old. More Simon didn't know yet but he seriously hoped that there was more to know. They had first thought that perhaps the murder had something to do with racism, an explanation as good as anything else since they had absolutely no clue about what was going on. But now they would have to find another theory apparently. Perhaps Sandburg could tell some things about his friend when he had calmed down…

Simon's train of thought came to an abrupt halt. A little fact he hadn't noticed before was standing up in his mind. Hadn't Blair been befriended with the first victim, too? Or at least with his finance. Now, this man was a good friend of Blair, or so he said. Two of Sandburg's friends killed in the time of one month? Could it be…? Simon shook his head violently. He wouldn't continue this train of thought; it was simply laughable but nothing else. Surely it was just a coincidence.

Nearly against his will Simon went over Blair's words when he had revealed that he knew this victim, too. Simon's eyes widened.

_"Why would these bastards go after him"_. 

_These bastards, _as in more than one. Blair had talked about more than one murderer in his outburst. And Simon didn't think that it was a mistake. What was going on? Did Blair know something about the case? If yes, why wasn't he saying anything?

Simon looked at the torn up rest of his, still unlit, cigar and decided to throw it away. Concerning Blair, Simon was not ready to suspect the young observer of any wrongdoing just yet. But he would keep an eye on the younger man, hoping he wouldn't find anything.

***************

Jim sped down the stairs of the building, looking for his guide. Blair had a head start but nothing that would stop Jim. On the other hand, Blair was the only person that could hide from Jim if he wanted to. He had proved it, too, a few months ago during a camping trip. How Blair had managed to talk Jim into this particular test, the Sentinel didn't know anymore. Jim had thought this hide-and-seek game, for it was nothing else, would be over pretty fast. In the end Jim had admitted defeat after searching for his guide for three hours in the woods and had returned to the camp just to find Blair making dinner. Perhaps he should have been more careful with his jokes about Blair's navigation abilities. To this day Jim had absolutely no idea how his guide had managed to evade his searching senses and of course Blair wasn't telling a thing.

But this time he was lucky. When he send his senses out carefully he immediately found Blair's heartbeat and voice. Following the two well-known sounds it didn't take Jim too long to find Blair. He was at a deserted street corner, walking back and forth like a caged animal and talking into his cell phone. Curious and with only a small (microscopic, really) bad conscience Jim remained at a distance and started listening. He could only understand Blair's side of the conversation since he didn't dare to dial his hearing up further. Out here in the open the danger of a spike was far too big and without Blair to pull him out of the following zone… Better not risk it.

Attentively Jim started to listen to Blair.

"… Linda, I don't care if it is an important meeting… - Okay, okay, _Miss Devon_, would you please patch me through to my uncle now? - I already told you, I-do-not-care! I have to talk to Micah! - On the contrary, I think Mr Petrov would be very annoyed if you didn't tell him that I'm on the phone - No, it won't be enough if he calls back sometime - And I won't call back either, I want to talk to him NOW! - No - No - Yes - _Thank you_…"

Blair sounded very annoyed and ready to kill somebody, Jim noted. It sounded as if he was fighting with some kind of secretary.

"… Hello, uncle Micah! You know, I think you need a new secretary." -A short, humourless laugh- "No, she just told me, I couldn't talk to you, because you were in a meeting. - Hmm - You are right, it is something important. There has been another murder. - Yes, another one of us. This time a half - Victor Kelling - I know that he wasn't under our protection anymore but that doesn't change the fact that he belonged to us - Yes, the same as last time, more than one this time and it happened in his own apartment. - I'm damn f*** sure that this is a challenge, Micah! - Sorry, it's just so… so frustrating. Vic was my friend. We talked about his plans for a bookstore just two days ago - hmm - hmm - Do you think Runner can help with it? - Oh, okay - I don't know how much longer I can keep him in the dark, Uncle. I think he already suspects something - Yes, I'll come over tonight. - Bye"

Blair took the phone away from his ear and closed it. Jim decided to wait another moment before going over so his guide wouldn't suspect that he had been overheard. Besides he had much to think about. The whole talk had sounded rather suspicious. Why had Blair told somebody else about the case, at all? One of the first things they had taught the young observer was not to talk about the cases he was working on together with Jim. To nobody. The press-disaster with Lash had shown the reasons very clearly after all. Who was this Micah Petrov to Blair that the young man would tell him such things? Blair called him _Uncle_, but Jim hadn't found anything indicating a family connection when he had done his check on Mr Petrov.

_He was under our protection_. What did Blair mean by this. Under whose protection had Victor Kelling been and why had he lost this protection?

_He belonged to us_. What did he belong to? And why was Blair part of this for that matter?

_A challenge_. What kind of challenge and against whom or what? Jim shuddered. The way Blair had talked sounded too much like some conversations between _Family members_ he had overheard in his time with vice. But Blair wasn't part of the Mafia, no way. It just couldn't be. Jim would not believe that his friend belonged to this kind of organisation. But on the other hand…

Jim didn't know what to think anymore. Putting his speculations about Blair in the darkest corner of his mind, Jim went over to his friend.

***************

Two hours later Jim and Blair reached the police-department. The general mood around the precinct was bad, the inability to solve the case, to even find the smallest of clues weighed hard on everyone's mind. The possibility of another serial-killer in their town didn't go down well with the men and women of Major Crimes.

Jim, in one of his famous bad moods, was grumbling under his breath while he went over to the break-room to get coffee. Blair had sent him away in order to have some peace and quiet while he wrote both their reports. Simon was in enough of a bad mood without having to deal with what Jim called an elaborate report.

Suddenly a flow of curses came from the break room and Blair started to ask himself if it had been a mistake to send his Sentinel on a simple food-run. What had happened now?

Slightly annoyed Blair abandoned the computer and went over to the break-room. One should think that a seasoned-cop and survivor of eighteen months of jungle should be able to get two cups of reasonably drinkable coffee without causing a disaster. Blair was really not in the mood to deal with anything more demanding than doing paperwork at the moment. He was still running high on adrenalin after going over the murder-scene again. He still needed an acceptable explanation for Jim why he would go out tonight and trying to lie to his Sentinel (without being caught) wasn't something that would improve his general mood.

Going into the break room Blair noticed that everyone's eyes were glued to the small TV while Megan proved that she knew way to many Australian slang curse words. After realizing what was shown on the local news-channel Blair really wanted to join her.

"… all points to another serial-killer having set up base in Cascade. Until now the police refuses any comment concerning this matter. How long will they try to keep the people in the dark about the latest danger to them…?"

The news speaker talked another four minutes about how incompetent the police force in Cascade was with little references towards how long it had taken them to catch David Lash. The mood in the bullpen dropped another hundred degrees towards absolute zero. Blair could understand Jim's choice of words before. As if this whole mess wasn't complicated enough without the press making everything even harder for the police.

"How did they find out this time?" somebody finally asked. Silence all around. Blair could feel some looks on him but refused to even think about commenting. Apart from the fact that he would never think about giving these annoying reporters any information, how the hell would he pull something like this off without Jim noticing? It was hard enough hiding his correspondence with Micah from his curious Sentinel.

But when Jim sent a partly questioning, partly accusing look to his guide, Blair sent a glare at him. Not any glare, but the one that got rioting students silent in minutes and annoying Sentinel's to back down from a topic in seconds. It worked every time like a charm.

The discussion about who had leaked information this time started but Blair just grabbed a cup of coffee out of his Sentinel's hand (while still glaring) and went back to write the reports. The sooner he finished them, the sooner he would get out of here.

***************

Simon hadn't noticed anything from the newest riot in the break-room, but Rhonda had been nice enough to inform him that a) the press somehow had found out about their case and was now talking up a panic. He should prepare for a call from the commissioner. And b) both Ellison and Sandburg were in a bad mood, a deadly combination if one wasn't careful. Wonderful. Wasn't his life hard enough? Apparently not.

Shifting through the paperwork of the last month, once again thankful that Sandburg was doing Ellison's reports, Simon hadn't been prepared for what happened next. The telephone shrilled and startled the captain out of his thoughts. After barking a highly unfriendly "What" in the receiver, which earned him a short telling-off from Rhonda, he was informed that a FBI-Agent wanted to talk to him, since Detective Ellison wasn't in at the moment. Simon really considered killing something this very moment.

"Patch him through, Rhonda."

Frustrated Simon reached for his coffee-cup. The coffee was cold by now, but he didn't care, not really. Anything to calm him down enough to deal with the FBI.

"Yes?"

"Captain Banks? This is Agent Byers speaking." An unpleasant voice announced from the other side of the line. Simon took a deep breath to remain calm.

"How can I help you, Mr Byers?"

"One of your men requested information over our database this afternoon. It concerns a few murder-cases in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Seattle that were never solved. From what I understand similar murders happened in Cascade?"

Simon closed his eyes, not knowing if he should be thankful that something akin to a lead had appeared or be annoyed at Jim for letting him deal with the FBI.

"You have to be a bit more precise. What kind of murders are you talking about?"

"The victims look like an animal-attack, no apparent connection between them, sometimes there are animal-hairs found at the scene. Sounds familiar?"

The Agent was growing more disagreeable with every word he said.

"Yes, that would be our current problem case."

"Good. My partner and I have been working on this case since their activities in Los Angeles. We would like to come up to Cascade as soon as possible to help."

_Oh yes, I'm definitely getting a headache_ Simon thought pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Of course. We would be thankful for any kind of help."

Simon really tried to keep his distaste about the FBI getting in on the case out of his voice, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

_Ellison is just going to love this._

"Then my partner and I are going to arrive sometime tomorrow. Until then captain."

"Yes, bye"

The line disconnected. Simon leaned back in his chair trying to figure out how to break this news to Jim Ellison. The Detective wouldn't be happy. But perhaps they would be lucky and the Agent would turn out to be a reasonable and helpful man.

_And hell is going to freeze over_

***************

It was early evening when Blair steered his car through the wrought iron gate before Micah's mansion. After killing the engine Blair slumped into the seat and rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a second. A stressful day for sure. Jim hadn't been exactly happy when Blair had informed him that he had something else to do today.

After taking a minute to gather his thoughts, Blair finally left his car behind and went over to the house. Walking with more self-confidence than he felt, he ignored the bodyguards and then the secretary who was frantically trying to stop him from entering the office of his uncle. Not that she was very successful in her attempt. After his conversation with her this morning he wasn't about to let her stop him.

After a short, sharp knock Blair entered. Micah and Runner, who had obviously been busy going over some files, looked up and a relieved smile showed up on Micah's face. He had already waited for his nephew.

"I'm terrible sorry, Mr. Petrov, I couldn't stop him." Linda who had entered the room just after Blair said. She looked terribly sorry, which brought her an irritated glare from Blair. What the hell was this woman's problem?

"It's okay Miss Devon, we'll talk later. Please leave us alone now."

Micah's tone of voice indicated that it would be a long talk indeed. Miss Devon closed the door with a slightly confused look on her face. As soon as she was out of sight Blair let out a sigh and turned to his uncle:

"What exactly is this woman's problem?"

"She is new in Cascade. Until recently she worked for the pack in Dallas and now moved up here. Don't hold it against her; she doesn't know our hierarchy yet. I hope she'll learn it soon."

"You're not the only one, Thunder. You're not the only one…" Blair sighed "Back to business."

Blair went over to the desk and sat down in one of the comfortable chairs. In the following two hours several carafes of coffee and tea were consumed while the last murder was discussed at length. Runner had found additional information that Seattle or San Francisco hadn't been the first big cities that had been the target of the group. There were reports of similar occurrences in New York and in Los Angeles even if they weren't sure about the authenticity of the reports from New York. The city was one of the few that had no controlling power present and so the underground culture ran a bit wild. No one was able to say for sure that the murders there had really something to do with those happening here at the moment. Most of all because there weren't clear reports. The competing packs had made sure that the police stayed way from these cases and weren't overly informative themselves.

But the reports they got from LA were a bit more alarming. The pack there was relatively small and not so tight as the one here in Cascade. 'Only' two murders had happened there and then the killers had apparently moved on to cities with larger packs. But it was in LA the police had first started to investigate parallel to the pack (and a kind of annoying private Detective). Since the occurrences in Seattle the FBI was investigating.

"Oh man, Jim is just going to love this." Was Blair's only comment to this. He still hadn't figured out how to help Jim and the others Detectives in Major Crimes with the extra information he got through his contacts with the pack without compromising the secret. The whole time he had hoped that his friends would find the leads on their own, but until now there simply weren't any leads to find. Blair didn't want to know how Runners people had come up with some of their information.

How to let Jim know the identities of some of the killers without making his Sentinel even more suspicious? Blair wanted to help his friend, not only because he wanted to catch the killers before another of his friends had to die but also because he just wanted to make it easier for Jim. Having a bad conscience while living with a Sentinel was a horror of its own proportions. Blair knew only to well that Jim had good reason to be suspicious.

As if reading his thoughts Micah asked Blair how his attempts to steer the police on the right path were working out.

"I think I'm going to have to tell Jim." Blair said with a sigh. Micah looked at him sharply.

"Do you really think that would be necessary, Dreamer?"

"What else can I do? I told you already that Jim isn't going to accept any information without knowing were it comes from. And how can I tell him this without telling him the rest. By the way, I should have told Jim ages ago."

"Please try to find another way for now. Don't tell him until it's absolutely unavoidable."

This wasn't ordered by his uncle Micah, this was the packs alpha speaking. Resigning himself to more time trying to hide the truth from the human lie detector Blair said:

"Yes Thunder."

***************

Blair's day had been vastly stressful already and it was only one pm. It was just one of these days where you just didn't see the reason to get up in the morning. It had started with one over eager University-official who had chosen just today to inquire about Blair's habit of being absent from campus all the time (apart from his lectures of course), then some jocks in one of his anthro-lectures had tried to intimidate him into giving them better marks than they deserved (a copied essay out of the standard-textbook wasn't an essay, sorry), his office-hours had turned into an impromptu war conference with the pack-members who were at the university and finally Blair's beloved "classic" car had once again refused to start when he needed it to. To top it all, when Blair finally reached Prospect to meet up with Jim he was grumpily informed that they were going to be late to meet the FBI-Agents who had arrived this morning to contribute to the case. Ergo: Jim's mood was sunk so deep down that even Hades would have trouble finding it and Blair decided at this point that his day just couldn't get any worse.

An opinion he changed as soon as they stepped out of the elevator on the floor of major crimes. The short significant look from Rhonda (secretaries rule!) signalled nothing good. Blair resigned himself to an afternoon of keeping Jim from committing murder.

Stepping through the door to the bullpen after Jim Blair looked around and immediately noticed the two strange men in Simon's office. This had to be the federal-Agents; they looked stereotypical enough with their suits. One of the Agents, who had appeared to talk with Simon, turned around and looked directly at Blair who suddenly felt such a strong sense of danger and fear that he stopped dead in his tracks. Something wasn't right here, all his instincts were screaming at him to turn around and _run_. Never in his whole life had Blair felt something like this, such an overwhelming sense of danger that he could hardly suppress the urge to flee.

"Chief? Are you alright?"

Jim was looking at his friend and partner with increasing worry. The young mans heartbeat had gone through the roof suddenly and Blair was looking so pale that Jim feared he would faint any minute. The blue eyes were unfocused and wide with fear, his breath coming in short gasps and he was shivering ever so slightly. Everything looked as if Blair was about to have a major panic attack. Not good! When he gently touched his guides shoulder Blair jumped and stared at his Sentinel with such fear in his look that Jim felt his stomach clench.

"Blair? What's the matter?"

Blair stared at Jim for a long moment before he registered who was standing in front of him. Taking a deep breath he managed to calm down a bit but the feeling of danger never went away. Realizing that Jim still waited for an explanation Blair tried a smile (and failed) and said with a voice that sounded way more steady than he felt:

"I'm okay, Jim. Something startled me, probably just my imagination."

Blair hoped desperately that Jim wouldn't call this really bad lie. But before the Sentinel had a chance to ask again what was going on, Blair was saved by Simon who looked out of his office and called:

"Are you going to stand there all day Ellison? Get moving!"

Jim mumbled something that wasn't printable and sent Blair a short look that promised that the conversation would be continued later on, and then followed the call of his captain. Blair trailed closely behind, still trying to shake the growing feeling of danger.

Stepping into the office and closing the door Blair noticed with a small smile that Jim had positioned himself between the two Agents and Blair. Apparently the Sentinel was in full blessed-protector-mode once again after his Guide's near panic-attack. Under normal circumstances behaviour like this annoyed Blair a bit (sometimes a lot) but just now he was actually thankful for it. Jim's unconscious protective behaviour eased the gnawing fear that somehow seemed related to the FBI-Agents a bit.

Simon's booming voice interrupted Blair's train of thought when the police-captain started with the introductions:

"Gentlemen, these are the Agents Byers and Hazel. Agents, this is Detective Ellison, the lead Detective in this case and Blair Sandburg, a consultant to our department."

Blair sent a short thankful smile towards Simon than tried to pear around Jim to get a better look at the two Agents.

Agent Byers was about Jim's height with wide shoulders and military short hair. He had a no-nonsense expression on his face and the glare, that was a strange mix of dislike and contempt, he sent towards Blair send an icy shiver down his spine. A reaction that didn't go unnoticed by Jim.

The other Agent was the absolute opposite to his partner. Smaller and lankier he had an open and friendly expression on his face, intelligent green eyes looking at Blair with a smile in them. Blair couldn't help but return the smile.

How could two men who seemed so different work together? The strong differences actually reminded Blair a bit of his own partnership with Jim but one look between the two Agents showed that their partnership was nothing like the one Sentinel and Guide shared.

The glare Agent Byers never wavered the whole time and Jim started to return it with a glare of his own while Blair did his best to become partly invisible behind his friend. If this had been a cartoon little flashes would have passed between Jim and Agent Byers. Simon looked from one person in the room to the other noting their reactions to each other. Agent Hazel seemed a reasonable enough help for this case, but Simon really didn't like how Agent Byers (who was growing more obnoxious by the second) looked at Blair. Much less he liked Sandburg's reaction though. The young anthropologist looked as if he was actually afraid of the Agent. Blair Sandburg wasn't easily intimidated and when it happened he normally did not show it. Blair's reaction seemed to have triggered one from Jim, who looked at Agent Byers as if he was already thinking about where to hide the body. Just wonderful. Under normal circumstances Blair would have started to run interference by now, distracting his Sentinel way from a capital offence, but these weren't normal circumstances apparently. This was much worse.

"Gentlemen!" Simon tried to draw the attention of the present people to himself. Agent Hazel and Blair (who seemed to actually try to _hide_ behind Jim) looked at him but Jim and Agent Byers ignored him in favour of their staring contest. Simon chose to ignore it and just be happy with having fifty percent of the attention.

"I thought it would be best for solving this case if we brought all facts, clues and opinions together first. The others are probably waiting for us already in the break room… Get moving Detective!"

Jim sent a last poisoned glare to Agent Byers then turned to leave Simon's office, Blair very close to his heels. The captain gestured to the two FBI-Agents to follow the Detective and then left his office himself. Why did he have the feeling that this was going to be a very long day? 

The little group was awaited by Rafe and Megan in the break room, Brown was nowhere to be seen. Everyone took a seat, Blair as far away from Agent Byers as he could, a fact that wasn't missed by anybody else in the room. As if the general atmosphere wasn't bad enough already, Agent Byers just had to comment on Blair's presence:

"Are you sure captain, that your _consultant_ will really be helpful in this case?"

Byers' tone of voice when he said consultant left absolutely no doubt what he really thought about Blair's status here. Something that did not get him any sympathy points from the people present. Agent Hazel meanwhile looked down on the table and shook his head. A hue of red had appeared on his cheeks.

Simon, as the boss felt it his responsibility to say something before Jim (or Megan) decided to remove Agent Byers in a very permanent way.

"Until now Mr Sandburg has always been very helpful with solving hard cases by contributing a new viewpoint and unorthodox information."

A very nasty smile showed on Agent Byers face and he mumbled purposefully loud:

"The question is just where would he get information for this case…"

The glares he received from everyone around should have been enough to kill Agent Byers on the spot. Thankfully (or sadly?) the Agent remained among the living.

After about a minute of uncomfortable silence Brown and Taggert showed up with coffee, a package of donuts and a few forgotten case files. It took both only one look to grasp the general situation: 1. The Agents were already here. 2. Everyone in this room had already developed a dislike for at least one of them and 3. Simon had a major headache coming. All in all not a good situation.

After the two had taken seats the brainstorming session started. In the course of it it became clear that the FBI-Agents had absolutely no idea what they were dealing with. They had no motive, no suspects; they were even missing a few files. They weren't even much help putting the clues together that had been found. Agent Byers only made nasty comments towards Blair, which most certainly didn't endear him to anyone here. Agent Hazel tried to contribute his viewpoint once or twice but never managed to finished his sentence before Agent Byers interrupted him. It took only ten minutes before no one listened to the two Agents anymore. Instead the members of Major Crimes did what they were good at: working together.

"Okay." Said Taggert at one point, recapitulating what they had said so far "We know that the murders happens once a month, always on full moon. We know that it is probably more than one killer and that the main actors are most probably male. We also know that on _all_ scenes wolf hairs were found… Does anybody know what to do with this?"

Everyone in the room was silent for a moment before Brown said half joking:

"Perhaps our murderer is a werewolf?"

Everyone looked at Brown as if he had completely lost his mind. Blair, who hadn't said one word during the whole time, knew that his heart rate must have spiked this moment at least judging by Jim's look. Agent Byers on the other hand smiled at Blair with an unbeatable nastiness.

"H, I think you read to many horror-novels recently." Megan finally commented but Brown liked his idea apparently.

"Come on, think about it Megan, everything would fit. I'm not saying that our killer is an actual werewolf, I'm not that far gone, but couldn't it be that there is some strange cult whose members _think_ they are werewolves? What do you think hairboy? Cults and all this strange stuff are more your alley."

Blair, who had studied the table intently, looked up abruptly and directly at H. Before he could formulate a good answer Agent Byers said acidly:

"Yes, I would like to know, too, what Mr Sandburg has to say about this."

Blair stared at the Agent with a steadily sinking feeling in his stomach. The man couldn't know, could he?

"Well, I think H's idea isn't so bad. After all, everything fits together. The main problem is to find a connection between the victims, the reason why they are chosen."

Blair was proud how steady his voice had sounded. He felt anything but. He only wanted to be out of here.

From this point the brainstorming session didn't get any further. No one had any bright ideas how the victims were connected with each other. Even Blair didn't have any clue why Richard Northstar and Victor Kelling had been the first victims and not others. Why not him?

At one point everyone decided that they should leave and go back to work. Blair wanted to get out of the room and away from the Agent so fast that he ended up forgetting his pencil-case.

"One day you'll end up forgetting your head," Jim teased good-naturally and Blair sent him a joking glare. The Sentinel went on to get some coffee while Blair turned around to run back to the break-room.

Entering, he saw the case still lying on the table. He grabbed it and wanted to leave the room again, when he was grabbed by the shoulder and thrown against the wall violently. Scared Blair stared up into the face of Agent Byers.

"What the hell are you doing, Agent?" Blair demanded with false bravado. In truth he was shit-scared. He tried to get away from the painfully hard grip Byers had on his arms, but without success. The Agent smiled his nasty smile and said in a threatening whisper:

"I just wanted to have a little talk alone with you."

"What do you want?"

Blair noted that his voice shaking by now. Why the hell was he so afraid of this man? Normally such behaviour would only make him mad, not afraid. The Agent smiled with undeniable satisfaction when he noted Blair's growing fear.

"I just wanted to make some things clear. There won't be any more kills."

"Wha… what are you talking about?"

"I know what _your_ kind is about. I won't let you beasts continue."

Suddenly everything fell into place and Blair's eyes became impossible wide with panic. A Hunter! The guy was a freaking Hunter! Now Blair really started to fight to get loose, twisting and turning in the Agent's brutal grip. It only made the Agent mad enough to throw the young man against the wall again hard enough to cause bruises. It didn't stop Blair from struggling. The Agent didn't care, he moved forward and whispered into Blair's ear:

"I want you to tell your friends that their murdering days are over. I won't let them continue…"

Struggling futilely against the Agent Blair could feel himself begin to change. It as only a natural reaction to his panic and perhaps he had a chance to get away with the additional strength of his wolfform.

Glowing amber eyes stared directly in brown ones. The Agent didn't let go. Everything looked as if it would come to an fight when the door of the room opened and Rafe looked in.

"Is there a problem Agent Byers?"

Rafe's voice was cold as ice. The Agent looked at him for a moment before taking his hands of Blair's arms and taking a step back.

"No problem. Just a little talk with your _consultant_."

With these words Byers walked past Rafe and left. Blair sank down the wall, weak with relief. Rafe looked after the Agent for a moment before coming over to Blair.

"Everything okay with you?" he asked concerned. Blair didn't look at him but stared into space, sitting absolutely still. In fact he gave a very good imitation of one of Jims**(Jim's)** zones. His eyes were still glowing amber.

"Blair? Come on, you're scaring me here. Spacing out is Jim's job."

While internally debating with himself if he should run and get Jim Rafe gently shook Blair's shoulder. Finally the younger man seemed to snap out of it and turned towards Rafe:

"He is a Hunter, Brian."

"Shit"****

There wasn't anything else to say to this. A Hunter was about the only thing a werewolf feared. No one knew how this group had original started or why, but everyone knew that they were dangerous. A Hunter could sense a werewolf, just like the Were was instinctly aware of the Hunters presence and a Hunter was stronger than a normal human. In fact they were strong enough to match a werewolf sometimes. This alone wouldn't pose a problem but the few remaining Hunters had only one goal: the extinction of all werewolves. There had been occasions when Hunter's had managed to wipe out whole packs. Generally, these people were known to be brutal, unreasonable and under the influence of to many bad horror-movies. And now one had appeared in Cascade.

"What am I going to do?" mumbled Blair hopelessly, staring at his hands "As if the pack hadn't enough problems already with these killers running around. Now a Hunter has to show up."

"First of all you are going to calm down. I don't think we could explain your new eye colour if anybody would happen to walk in."

Startled Blair looked up and at Rafe's face. With a sheepish smile he started concentrating and quickly brought his wolf-side back under control. The amber in his eyes vanished to be replaced by their normal blue.

"Did this bastard hurt you?" Rafe asked concerned while helping Blair to his feet. The younger man shook his head:

"Just a few bruises, nothing too bad. They will be healed in a few hours."

"We really should tell Simon about this." Rafe muttered his eyes flashing with rage "Perhaps he could do something."

"And tell him what? As long as Byers doesn't get actually violent Simon can't do anything. I'm just an observer here, not one of his men…"

"Byers did get violent if he left bruises. And you know that Simon would love to kick this Agent out of here if he knew what happened."

Blair sighed and leant against the wall, closing his eyes.

"We have no proof. The bruises will have vanished tomorrow and you didn't actually see anything, did you? It would be my word against his."

Rafe gave up trying to convince Blair. The young werewolf was right. At the moment there wasn't anything they could do against Agent Byers beside watch out. Rafe really wasn't happy with the idea that a Hunter was running around in Cascade. Obsessive people like these always meant trouble. Hunters only went after werewolves, blissfully ignoring that there were other beings in the supernatural realm. Like himself for an instance.

Rafe looked at Blair who had his eyes still closed and was breathing deeply in order to calm his frazzled nerves. He would give H and the rest of the gang an additional head-up to look out for Blair and if possible to keep him away from the FBI men.

"I think we better go back before Jim starts to look for you. By the way, what are you going to tell him?"

"Nothing." Blair answered Rafe's question while straightening up. Rafe looked at him puzzled:

"Nothing? Do you think that's wise?"

"No other choice. I'm either going to tell him everything or nothing and since Thunder has expressed his dislike about me telling Jim anything about the pack…"

Blair shrugged dismissively and Rafe shook his head.

_Can this get any more complicated?_ the Detective thought while walking back to the bull-pen with Blair.

He shouldn't have tempted fate like this.

tbc

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

_What's up with Rafe? What is Agent Byers really after? Who'll be the next victim? And will Jim ever find out what is going on?_

_The answers to all these questions in the next part (Perhaps)._


End file.
